


Aftertaste

by iskanderthebi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fingerfucking, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Restraints, Spanking, mild choking, we are all horny on main
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iskanderthebi/pseuds/iskanderthebi
Summary: “In my long years,” she began, watching your fingers, “I came to understand many things. But most important is this — blood tastes better with arousal. Yours, and mine.”
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 232





	Aftertaste

**Author's Note:**

> for all my non binary babes!

“You know why you’re here, don’t you, pet?”

The voice of Lady Dimitrescu, in all its velvety smoothness, complimented the crackle of the flames in the fireplace, that flickered dancing light upon her face. She sat cross legged on a grand four poster bed, larger than you ever knew existed, embroidered with golden thread. A pearl choker adorned her neck, a teardrop ruby dangling off its bottom. Even with the dozen clichés fluttering about your head, you could not help thinking it looked like a great drop of blood.

You had not yet been brought for a bloodletting. They didn’t feast immediately upon a capture, they liked to wait, watch to pick the one they wanted best, set up charades and games to entertain the chase. You had been there over a month before you were called. You had once walked down the wrong corridor during a night like this and the screams you heard were not of pain.

“Yes, your ladyship,” you said stiffly, bowing slightly at your middle.

She smiled. Every tooth was the size of a finger joint, sharp and pearly.

“No need to be so formal, darling. I have no desire to kill you today.” She said the words casually, as if they were about nothing more than the weather. “My daughters may have given you a, ah, rather ugly opinion of how we do things, but youth have the tendency to disobey, don’t they? No, I don’t wish to lose the pleasures to come out of impatience.”

The way she said the word ‘pleasures’ sent a blush to the tips of your ears.

She gestured. “Step closer to me, pet. I lit the fireplace especially for you. Let me see you in its light.”

You moved up the two steps before her bed, until she was within arm’s reach. Even sitting, she was far taller than you, metallic eyes watching you intently as you stopped, unsure what to do with your hands, and bowed again.

She laughed, a rich sound that seemed to bounce against the walls, and took your chin in a hand.

“You’re quite handsome, pet,” she crooned, angling your face towards the light of the fire. “What a strong face you have, how very dear. And what eyes, oh, what clear eyes too, my sweet.”

The hand slid to your jaw, tugging you closer, until your back hunched to accommodate. Her face was suddenly very close and you could smell her musky perfume and the faint scent of the facial powder. She cocked her head to the side, nose inhaling deeply against your neck.

“Oh, but your smell,” she whispered. “You’re no virgin, that I can tell, but touched so little that the innocent sweetness is still about you.” Her lips brushed lightly against your jugular. “I cannot wait to taste you.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine but her ladyship did not sink her fangs into you as your brain so began to fantasise. Instead, she leaned back, releasing your face, and settled more leisurely on the bed. She wore a silk dress the colour of cream, black lace framing the low neckline. Under the light of the fire, her pale skin almost had a warm glow.

“Take off your jacket,” she said suddenly.

You swallowed, hands timidly going to your collar.

“In my long years,” she began, watching your fingers, “I came to understand many things. But most important is this — blood tastes better with arousal. Yours, and mine.”

You took off the jacket, letting it fall, the white linen shirt beneath hiding little of you. With a flick of her finger and a pointed raise of her eyebrow, you began unbuttoning the shirt too.

Dimitrescu let out a sigh as she saw your bare torso, hand reaching out again to run itself over your waist. “Ah, my pet,” she purred. “With your strong face, but your body is soft. So very soft, so delicate and sweet.”

The cold fingers ran themselves over your ribs, palm brushing your collarbones, outlining your shoulders. The touches were so light, so unashamed in their demeanour, you could not help but feel the breath hitch in your throat. Those screams came to you, the screams that so confused you then. As the back of a nail flicked your stiff nipple, and a needy gasp left your mouth, you knew exactly what they were.

“Humans,” murmured Dimitrescu, hand running over your stomach and hitching in the band of your trousers. “How you delight me.”

She ripped your pants along with your small clothes off in a single tug, fingers momentarily sharpening into claws that shredded the material like paper. You swayed where you stood, surprise being taken over by desire as the hand, soft fingered again, firmly cupped you between your legs. You were wet, and by Dimitrescu’s wicked laugh, she was more than aware.

“So wanting,” she tittered, tilting her hand so that her palm dug against your clit, sending jerks through your thighs. “I’m glad.”

When she pulled away, for a second time your fantasies were cut short. You furiously blinked a haze out of your vision and felt a shameless whine build up in your throat as you watched her tug the front of her dress downward, letting her breasts spill over the black lace. Seeing her dark nipples made you salivate, wanting nothing more than to lavish the plush nubs with your tongue.

Lust plain in your eyes, Dimitrescu tutted. “Patience, pet,” she said, rolling a sleeve over her shoulder. “You shall get your due, but you must listen to me, alright? No disobeying, I cannot tolerate it.”

You nodded, eyes following the new expanse of skin as her arms came out of the sleeves, fabric being wormed over wide hips. She took her time, arching forward so that her breasts swayed tantalisingly in your line of sight. A white garter belt came into view, with white panties and thigh highs to match. She had worked the dress below her stomach when she abruptly lifted her leg.

“Take off my shoes,” she ordered.

You should have been embarrassed at your obedience as you instantly shuffled forward, dropping to your knees in front of her. She was in pretty white kitten heels that had been out of fashion for half a century, tied across the ankle with a bow. Your fingers trembled as they tugged the bow free, skin sliding against the silk stockings, their touch as soft as a feather. You gently pulled the right shoe off, placing her foot back on the ground, and focused on the other. You held her ankle as you took off the other shoe, let the touch drag on too long, brushing your thumb against the stocking before letting go.

“Stand up.”

You did, and she stood too, dropping her dress to the ground and stepping lithely out of it. She stood several heads taller, and in her stature and nudity you felt overwhelmed, unsure where to look until her hand found your chin.

“Come on, pet,” she said, encouragingly bringing you to her chest. “Show me what that mouth can do.”

You pressed a tender kiss against the side of her breast, wet lipped, moaning at how soft her flesh was. Dimitrescu’s hand wove itself in your hair and you felt emboldened, reaching to palm the breast your mouth wasn’t on. You took her nipple between your teeth, tugging ever so gently before suckling. Her size saw the nipple fill your entire mouth, and you hollowed out your cheeks as you loudly sucked on the dark nub, swirling your tongue around it. Light sighs from deep within Dimitrescu’s chest vibrated against your mouth.

You released her nipple with a obscene, wet pop, quickly lapping up the strings of saliva that dragged from your lips. You ran the flat of your tongue around her areola, deeply breathing in her strange, perfumed scent. You wanted nothing more than to please her, your own core throbbing.

You switched to the other nipple, keeping your hand toying with the wet one, and realised your body had unconsciously pressed against hers. Your pelvis barely met her thigh and, tentatively, you rolled your hips into her.

Dimitrescu chuckled and the movement sent more of her breast into your eager mouth. Your eyes rolled briefly to the back of your head as a choked moan forced itself up your throat.

“Oh, I _like_ you,” said Dimitrescu, and, taking your jaw in a hand, tugged you off so she could look at you. “You’re going to be a good one to me, aren’t you? You’re going to heed my orders?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, yes, anything, my lady.”

“Good.” She ran the pad of her thumb over your bottom lip. “Get on the bed.”

You climbed onto the mattress instantly, following the gestures of Dimitrescu’s hand as she made you scoot towards the back and lie flat with a pillow behind your head. The bed could have fit half a dozen more people, and your arms and legs were loose with plenty of room around as she came around and slipped your wrists into dark leather restraints. They themselves were attached to the tall oak bed head, with long chains to accommodate your smaller size compared to the furniture. With a hot thrill, you wondered how many others lay like this for her. You wondered how you looked to her then, thighs slick with need.

Walking around, Dimitrescu tightened your ankles into similar restraints and, seemingly pleased with her work, ran her hand up your calf and over your thigh, sending electric bolts to your aching cunt. The hand continued upwards, and with a whimper you realised the fingers had once again turned into claws, drawing over your skin with the lightest of pressures. Not enough to break skin, but enough that you were panting when the claws played with your sensitive nipples. You could do little more than arch your back, trying to get more friction, wanting _her_.

Dimitrescu gave a warm chuckle and retracted her claws, fingers replacing them before your eyes, and climbed onto the bed beside you. The mattress dipped as she lifted a leg to straddle you, her sudden weight leaving you moaning with want. She rolled her hips into your stomach, her wet hairs leaving smears on your skin, and reached behind to run a finger over your labia. The touch made you gasp, so close to your aching clit, but she only dipped the finger between your lips, collecting your slick, before pulling away. You watched with heavy lidded eyes as she licked her finger with a dart of a dark tongue and sighed.

“Exquisite,” she said, wiping the hand against the bedsheet and bringing herself over your chest. “I shall taste you more later.”

Your brain caught up with her intention and you eagerly swallowed, the smell of her wetness reaching your nostrils. You wished with frustration that you could touch her, that you could run your hands over the wide hips with the pale stretch marks, over the hairs on her venus mound. The torture of not being able to feel her wrought your sexual frustration to an almost painful ache.

Holding onto the headboard, Dimitrescu firmly placed her thighs on either side of your head and ground her cunt into your face. You set to work quickly, tongue flicking out to taste her, groaning as her slick immediately coated your lips and chin and cheeks, swallowing every drop you could. She set up a rhythm, clearly not needing more foreplay, that sent the bed squeaking with every roll of her hips. You tried to switch between licking and sucking, nose against her clit as you licked into her opening, tasting her at her fullness, finally feeling her warm against you. She fucked into your tongue at her own pace, fingers reaching to grip your hair in a fist, bringing you closer. Every sense overwhelmed, you were releasing needy moans with every shift of her delicious weight.

Dimitrescu was not particularly vocal, light gasps and sighs barely reaching your ears. But her grip in your hair sent a flash of stinging pain as she suddenly shoved you close, cutting off your air flow for the moment, crying out with her clit in your mouth. The orgasm had her thighs shake, lace ends of her stockings getting caught in your hair. Your hazy brain decided if this is how you were to die, you didn’t mind.

She raised herself off you with a satisfied hum, brushing damp hair off your forehead as you gasped for air. You didn’t need a mirror to tell your face was covered in her. Chains clinked loudly as your hands unconsciously jerked to wipe yourself.

“Let me clean you up,” said Dimitrescu, so lightly, it birthed the dangerous thought that she could read your mind. Somewhere from a side table she brought out a handkerchief and began wiping your face with short strokes.

Up close, her eyes were the colour of gold.

“Did I-” Your voice quietened, unsure why you should be flustered when you had your tongue inside her. “Did you like that, my lady?”

“So eager to please,” she purred, running the handkerchief over your chin. “You did very good, dear. I think you are quite ready.”

“Ready?” you repeated weakly.

She delicately placed the damp handkerchief away and leaned in close, her breasts pressed tightly against your chest, brushing her nose over your neck.

“For a feed,” she whispered and it sent such a shiver through you that left your toes curling.

Dimitrescu sniffed a few times before chuckling. “But not here.”

With the creaking of the bed accompanying her, Dimitrescu shifted towards its back end and positioned herself, to your thrill, between your legs. She ran a palm over your knee, before sliding both hands under your ass and lifting you several inches off the bed. The position made you gasp, chains ringing you as your hands trembled. She made you feel like you didn’t weigh a feather.

“Oh, I can smell you,” she said to your inner thigh. “Your blood is singing to me, pet. Your lust and desires makes it the more ripe, like a fruit ready to be plucked.

You were so wet you were certain it was dripping off you. She nosed in the crook between your cunt and your thigh, brushing through your hairs, breathing upon your aching core but not touching. Then she brought her chin over and pressed her lips against your hip, hard enough that you could feel her teeth.

“So ripe, so fresh and needy,” she was saying, more to herself than you. “You are wanting this, pet, aren’t you? You’ve been wanting this since you walked passed my chambers that time, when you heard the girl I was with. You’ve fucked yourself to the thought.”

Your eyes rolled back and closed as your face flushed hotly, because she was right. No matter the attempts to ignore, there was no denying the heavy attraction, the desire to serve. You burned for the lady of the house and cried out as her teeth sunk into the flesh by your hip bone.

You tried to crane your neck to watch, heart skipping a beat as you saw her pull away, lipstick smudged. Her eyes seemed to be aflame as they watched buds of blood well up from the bite. Strands of dark hair curled from behind her ear onto her cheek like tendrils of smoke.

“Exquisite,” she growled. Her teeth were long and smeared with blood. “Nothing like the blood of the sick or the hungry. You smell like a feast. Your arousal — it is like wine to me.”

She shifted her arms so that she could hold you up using only the one, and with two fingers pinched the skin around the mark. The sting was faint and you watched her eyes grow bigger, following a droplet that grew heavy enough to slide down your skin. There her restraint gave out and she pounced onto the wound, and you felt her tongue upon your skin as she began to feed.

The feeling was unlike any other. You expected more pain but the movement of her mouth, the way she moaned over you, heightened pleasure instead. The hand draping your waist was tight enough to bruise and every slight brush of her head brought her weight over your middle. Every muscle in you was electrified and when she dug her tongue firmly against the cut, to your embarrassment, you came with a half choked cry.

Vaguely, you felt her release you, allowing your body to fall back into the mattress.

“My, my,” said Dimitrescu, and there was a new timbre to her voice. “Who gave you permission to do that, pet? I am the one giving orders.”

Your voice sounded foggy and far away. “I’m sorry, my lady,” you panted. “Felt — so good.”

“Oh, no, pet. You need to learn a lesson.”

The sounds of the chains came to your ears.

“Only one here is to be giving orders, and that is me.”

Your legs were freed and the individual restraints around your wrists were changed to a single one that brought your hands together. With her strength, she lifted you up easily and, twisting her body so she sat on the edge of her bed, tugged you to lay face down over her thighs.

The position felt too reminiscent of its purpose . A flush heated your face as your craned your neck to look at her, heart thumping as your eyes ran over the curves of her breast. Her hand idly lay on the small of your back when she spoke.

“No,” she murmured. “Not enough.”

The bar gag fit snuggly into your mouth, its band of the same leather and chain as the restraints on the bed. Dimitrescu cradled your chin as she guided it as she wanted, your teeth sinking into its vaguely copper taste. Under her fingers your arousal became near blinding. You did not expect the gag to heighten you to the point of near feral neediness.

With a satisfied hum, Dimitrescu ran her hands through your hair and sharply slapped your ass. You dug your teeth into the bar, the sound of the slap reverberating across the room.

Dimitrescu’s large palm kneaded at the stinging spot, and then brought itself down on your other buttock. The slap made you groan, her sheer size making you feel it with your entire body. The tied hands gripped into each other, nails unconsciously digging into skin. You would have screamed if not the gag.

With each slap, you felt yourself get closer to another orgasm. The feeling was so much, you were brimming with lust, not wanting the punishment to end. Your moans changed into grunts, saliva pooling in your mouth and sliding down your chin. Your aching nipples pressed firmly into Dimitrescu’s thighs and you tried to worm yourself against her for the tiniest bit of friction.

The sting in your backside became a hazy red blur. You must have come, you could not tell exactly when, but your clit was pulsating and your wetness was obvious on the side of Dimitrescu’s leg.

With one final slap that sent you bucking against her, Dimitrescu ran a hand soothingly down your back.

“Well done, dear,” she said.

You would have done it all again for those words.

In a way that seemed almost tender, she wrapped an arm around your middle and lifted you so that you were almost straddling her. Dimitrescu’s size made the width of her thighs more than what you could comfortably spread to, but you arched your back to accommodate as best as you could. The arm behind you pressed you tightly against her chest, while the back of her free hand ran lightly up your face.

“My,” was all she said as her finger brushed against the spit on your chin. She did not take off the bar gag.

Her hand drew lower, over your stomach, and between your legs. Your little resolve seemed to crumble as her fingers parted your lips, leaning your forehead against her arm, your lungs shuddering in half choked breaths.

“For good punishment, a just reward,” whispered Dimitrescu into your ear.

Her fingers ran themselves through your slick folds before easily slipping inside your entrance, her two digits so thick your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt her against your walls, filling you to the brim, cunt so wet the stretch came easily. She fucked you at her leisure, smile on her face as you tried to match her thrusts with your hips. With her thumb rubbing circles on your clit, you were so sensitive and hazy that you cared little how you looked, feeling spittle around the corners of your mouth, teeth grinding against the bar. Your tied hands were pressed somewhere against her arm and as another orgasm burned itself through you, your head flung back in a cloud of sweat.

But even as the shaking in your thighs subsided, the fingers did not leave you, and with a greedy moan you felt their thrusts speed up. The hand on your back reached upward to your shoulder to pull it slightly away and while your brain tried to catch up, Dimitrescu’s tongue dragged itself firmly up your jugular.

“Oh, my sweet,” she said, and sunk her fans into your neck.

It was overwhelming. Your hips stuttered against her hand as the feeling of her sucking your blood set off another orgasm. Dimitrescu was at her most vocal whenever she was latched onto your skin, and her intermittent gasps and moans against your skin were like sorcery. You gave yourself to her, fully, arching your neck so she could better taste you. Jealously, you wondered how attentive she was to her previous victims.

Licking the bite, she pulled back and the sight of your blood mixing with her smeared lipstick was intoxicating. She tugged on your hair, fingers pumping in and out. With a single slice of a sharp finger, the bar gag fell out of your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” she said and kissed you.

You lost yourself in the feeling, in the fullness of her lips against yours. You barely had time to swallow the saliva that had collected beneath the gag when she pushed her tongue inside your mouth, your own coppery taste filling you. You moaned against her. There was something dirty about tasting your blood on her tongue, that was so big and insistent in your mouth. You loved every moment of it.

With her tongue curling around yours, and losing count of the amount of times you came with a tightening around her fingers, Dimitrescu stopped and pulled out. Immediately, you felt the loss, whimpering against her lips. You felt her chuckle and drag the pointed tips of her teeth down your tongue.

“So good, pet,” she crooned. Her lipstick was smudged around the corners of her mouth, on the rounding of her chin. “But now I want you again.”

Golden flame shone wildly in her eyes.

She lifted you off her lap, your legs suddenly remembering their purpose and feebly trembling, and set you on the thick rug below. A quick flick of her hands, and your restraints her off. She rubbed your wrists between her fingers.

“Show me what your mouth can do for me again, baby,” she said, spreading her legs. “And this time, use your hands.”

Her kindness came to an end and she firmly tugged you close, but you needed no coaxing, eagerly burying your face in her wet cunt. With the newfound freedom that you didn’t have before, you changed positions more frequently, dragging your tongue over her entrance, rolling her clit between thumb and forefinger. You lapped her up with the same greedy jealousy, openly moaning with every roll of her hips into you.

One hand focusing on her clit, your let the other run over her swollen lips, parting her labia. To know that you had made her wet and wanting was enough praise to sustain you for as many hours as she could have asked for. You licked your fingers and pressed them easily inside her, fitting four when the stretch made Dimitrescu release a satisfied groan. You pulled out slowly before pushing in, curling the tips of your fingers upward inside her, shivering at the way it made her moan. Slowly building up the pace, you took her clit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and loudly suckling.

Dimitrescu’s slick on your fingers made lewd sounds with every thrust. You felt her gasp and fuss somewhere beside you before a tug on your hair brought your head sharply back.

You felt something tie around your neck. Something smooth, soft. It abruptly dug into you and your eyes rolled to the back of your head with a moan. It was one of Dimitrescu’s thigh high stockings, wrapped firmly around your neck, ends gripped in her fist.

“Go on, pet.”

Having her clit in your mouth felt like divine reward. Your hand pumped into her faster, her slick sliding down your wrist. You ate up every sound that escaped her, relished every tightening around your neck of her stocking. No matter how much she had used you, your own sensitive core throbbed with every swallow of her.

Dimitrescu’s thighs shuddered and squeezed around you in their telltale sign of an orgasm to come. You quickened your pace, sucking hard on her clit, overcome by everything that Dimitrescu was, every sense flooded with her, for her. You wanted nothing more than for her to want you again. Her cry as she came on your hand was no less than ecstasy.

When her breaths calming, you slowly pulled out, pressing a kiss on her labia and licking deeply into her, collecting her slick. Dimitrescu’s hands then took you by the arms and stood you up, holding you up as your numbed legs went to buckle. The stocking around your neck was taken off. Her hands went to your cheeks and pressed on them.

“Open your mouth,” she said.

You obeyed, sticking out your tongue that was covered in her.

She spat in your mouth.

“Swallow.”

You did. You licked your lips before opening your mouth again to her. You swayed on your feet.

She smiled.

“Wonderful, pet.” She caressed the side of your face, lightly tapped the swollen bite on your neck. “You’ve done well. Rest, now. There is more to come for us.”

You nodded. You knew that you were not going anywhere. 

**Author's Note:**

> phew


End file.
